Dreams of You
by Jenn10
Summary: Immediately postChosen, Buffy dreams of Spike while staying with Angel. Both BS and BA friendly.
1. Default Chapter

The show is –or is that was? - Joss'. Oh, and I had some ideas for further chapters, so review and tell me if you want em. 

                                    ~ Jenn

Dreams of You 

            She starts to drift and doze, and realizes that most of the others have given up and gone to bed. Those who remain are mostly the ones still trying to hear all about the battle they weren't present for, but she isn't much for storytelling right now. Someone suggests she go to bed herself, and she must have nodded, because all at once that someone is helping her up the stairs, murmuring about what room she'll be in and where the bathroom is and that he'll be right across the hall if she needs him. She must have replied, because he laughs at her, soft and deep, causing a sleepy smile to slip fleetingly across her face. 

            Seemingly suddenly she is being lain down across a bed that seems as soft as a cloud, and he is carefully taking off her shoes. He pulls the blankets up to her shoulders, brushing her hair away from her face as he sits beside her. She asks him if saving the world merits breakfast in bed, and he assures her that can be arranged. They speak of eggs and waffles and vampires going grocery shopping. He pretends not to hear when her voice breaks, and he doesn't say anything when he wipes away her tears. She says goodnight, and he kisses her forehead, leaving her in silence to dream. 

            She stands at the edge of the crater, listening to the wind. Then she throws herself forward, plunging into the abyss, arms spread as if to embrace emptiness. She is suddenly standing in front of her home, looking the way it had pre-potentials, the windows lit and inviting. He is sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette and watching her. He doesn't seem surprised that she abruptly appeared in front of him. He smiles, tossing the cigarette down and stomping it out with the toe of his boot. She merely looks at him, shaking her head.

            "You're dead." He snickers, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

            "Well, yeah. Are you just figuring this out now, luv?"

            "No, you're really dead now. More dead than usual." His eyebrow rose to a spot of silent scoffing, a smirk on his lips. She glared at him. "Don't look at me like that. It's true."

            "Didn't say it wasn't. Just a bit amused, that's all. S'that all right with you, slayer?" The sarcasm made her smile a little, but she knew it wasn't real. It was a dream, because this house was gone now, and this man was gone too. Everything was. 

            "Shouldn't think like that, luv. Get you down." She looked up sharply, startled. "What? You know this is a dream, so why shouldn't I know what you're thinking?"

            "It's just not fair." She replied, and the words were suddenly too true, too real. It wasn't fair that he was dead. It wasn't fair that he was gone, and that she was left here, loving him and not able to do a damn thing about it. And she told him so. He agreed.

            "But life isn't fair, Buffy. You know that better than anyone. At least you've got that great poof to keep company with, right?" She shook her head emphatically, unaware of the tears slipping silently down her face.

            "I don't _want_ him. I want _you_." 

            "But you do love him." He held up a hand to stave off her interruption, "and we both know it's true. Always has been, always will be. He'll take care of you, much as you'll let him. You should have that. God knows you deserve it."

            "But I can't." She told him desperately, "I can't just be with him! I can't move on, and live a quasi-normal life, I don't know how! Everything I am, it's still here." She waved an arm in an all-encompassing gesture as she looked around the phantom town. He stood, closing the distance between them in a few long strides. He pulled her gently against his chest, stroking her hair.

            "Hey now, none of that. You'll be alright, you know." His tone was so matter-of-fact that she had to question it.

            "How can you be so sure?"

            "I know you. And you're not the type to be so easily beaten."

            "Easily? Hah." She laughed a little, pressed against her more-dead-than-usual lover. She really did lead a strange life. The world around her suddenly shimmered, and she held tighter to him, not ready to lose him again.

            "Its time, luv." He told her softly, "It's time for you to go back. They need you. You need them."

            "I'm not ready." She protested feebly, feeling the dream slipping away even as she spoke. She focused her gaze on the house, her home, as it disappeared.

            "You've always been ready. You're just too damn stubborn to admit it." She felt the peace of sleep fade, then she was lying in an unfamiliar bed, feeling broken hearted and healed all at the same time. 

            "Sleep well?" She turns toward the voice, resigned that it will never again be the one she dreamt of. There's a man in at the foot of the bed, but not the one she wants to be there. She loves them both, and maybe, just maybe, that's okay. 

            "Yeah. Good dream." She tells him, sitting up. He walks slowly around the bed, settling down beside her and brushing a hand across her cheek. She is all at once aware of the tear tracks there, and gives him a slightly sheepish smile. He smiles back, knowing not to push it. She is grateful for that, and thinks that maybe she'll tell him someday. For now, she turns her mind resolutely to the simple things. "Hey. Didn't you promise me breakfast?" His smile turns to a full-fledged grin.

            "Well, I didn't want it to get cold while I tried to wake you. You sleep like a log."

            "Watch it, I can still kick your ass."

            "We'll have to test that out later." 

            "You're on. Now go get me food. A hungry slayer is a cranky slayer."


	2. Mr Gordo

Please let me know what you think of it. Please? Okay, I'm done now.

It's his town, he told her so before, but he seems more than willing to share it now. She speaks of leaving, and his face tightens, then he changes the subject. He's missed her, even if he's only realizing it now that she's here. There are things to be done, but she's been to hell and back, and believes she deserves a little break. Besides, she's found a working routine here that's comfortable and efficient. With the hellmouth closed (well, not in Cleveland, but no one besides Giles is willing to admit to that yet) the demons and vampires are confused, disorderly. But L.A. was fairly recently full of vamps, and patrols are pretty satisfying. 

She's set up teams of slayers, always with someone who has experience, and they've been sweeping the city in shifts. She has separate teams for locating other slayers, led by Willow. Some of the girls were restless, Kennedy included, and she's sent them to make contact with a few slayers they found nearby. Hopefully, they'll be getting new arrivals soon. In the meantime, she's finding herself unnerved by the simple lack of unnerving elements in her life. Things are pretty damn close to being in control, and she hasn't lost everything, though sometimes, late at night especially, it feels that way.

            He defers to her, and so do the others, even those who were very recently casting her out for Faith. She reminds them that they are slayers too now, but they just smile a little and shake their heads. Sometimes she enjoys being able to run things her way, and keep an eye on everyone. Sometimes she hates it. Hates the responsibility. She's so tired of being in charge sometimes. But then she thinks back to Faith's question. Can you follow? If she were to be honest, she doesn't think so. After all, she burned down the gym at one school and blew up the other. Ran away from home and defied the ancient Council. She is not one to bow to authority, so it's probably good that she is the leader now. 

            She spends her days with Angel, carefully reminiscing and chatting about mundane, normal stuff. They have something, the two of them, a comfortable sense of just being right together. She thinks maybe she needs that. Needs him. He's there for her, always nearby, as if he's afraid to let her get out of his sight. He's changed, things have happened to him. _Bad _things. She knows that look. But he's still… him. And he knows. He knows the reason she won't let him get too close, and why she cries at night. He knows who she misses, and that she's not going to just forget him and move on. Sometimes, he can be pretty smart.

            "Who, the poof?" he's there, sitting her on the bed, and she smiles a little, not having realized she was so close in her musings to dozing off.

            "Don't call him that." She admonishes lightly, knowing he won't listen. She laces her fingers with his, taking delight in the childlike grin that sweeps across his face. She looks around them briefly, not really surprised to see her familiar bedroom, one that, in waking hours, she would never see again. Mister Gordo rests in the crook of her arm, and she feels almost content. Almost, off course, because she can't ever truly pretend that this is real. She can't do that, because she doesn't think she could stand to let herself believe he's not gone, only to be brokenhearted again in the morning. No way, no how.

            "You really need to redecorate in here, pet." He tells her, looking pointedly at Mr. Gordo, then at the girlish accents around the room. She scoffs, giving her pig a quick hug. 

            "Oh yeah, cause it's so important to have a _stylish_ pile of rubble."

            "Well you don't gotta be sassy about it." She grabs a pillow and whacks him with it. It catches him off-guard, and he nearly falls off the bed. He grabs a pillow of his own, raising it high above his head. It's pink and frilly, and the image sends her into storms of laughter before he delivers the fatal whack; she really _does_ fall off the bed. Or would have, anyway, if he hadn't grabbed her arm at the last possible second before her head hit the floor. She is still laughing hysterically, laughing like she hasn't in god knows how long. He tries to pull her up, but she is laughing too hard and ends up almost sending them both tumbling to the floor. But he is a stubborn bastard, and he hooks his feet on the other side of the bed, using his entire body as leverage to maneuver her back up beside him. This strikes her as even funnier, and she ends up a hopeless giggling heap on his chest. He doesn't seem to mind. After she calms down, they spend a few moments in silence.

            "You're the only one I can just _be _with, you know?"

            "That might end up being a problem, luv. You need to depend on them. The living. Or, un-living, what have you. Lively un-living, anyway…" He frowns, having confused himself, and she smiles, tracing the edge of his jaw with her fingers. 

            "I don't want to depend on them. I want to be here with you." He sighs, and wraps his arms around her, and, after rolling his eyes, Mr. Gordo too. 

            "I know you do. But I'm gone, luv. And this place… it only exists in you now. It's true what they say. You can't go home again." She looks around, then at him.

            "Except in your dreams, I guess." He nods.

            "Right you are. When you dream, you can have as much of me and Sunnyhell as you want, god help you." 

            "Well then," she grins at him, "I think I need to spend more time asleep."


	3. Midnight Memories

A/n: Took a while to get this chapter up, sorry. Reviews inspire me, fyi. Please let me know what you think of it, your favorite part, if there should be more, etc.

She keeps careful track of her emotions, afraid to lose herself in the strange cycles of grief and relief that keep wreaking havoc on her thought process. She sees him in her dreams, and there she can be free to laugh and smile and enjoy their limited time together. But it is tainted by her constant awareness of reality; that they are only dreams. Just her mind trying to deal with the sudden lack of him in her life. Often these days, she feels sorry for Angel, who fights by her side and cooks her meals, loving her and watching her grieve for another man. Sometimes she laughs with him, but it takes too much energy to silence that part of her screaming that he isn't the right one. So instead she cries with him, when the others are out and there's no one around to ask what's wrong. He never asks, and she returns the favor when his own tears are shed, over someone she never knew and has only the sketchiest information about. She thinks its funny that it is in these moments, when she feels like she's dying inside and the tears will never stop, that she feels such an overwhelming, unquestioning love for him. It's not the same as it once was, but she doesn't care. It's there, and real, and though his heart doesn't beat, he moves and speaks and exists. The lively un-living. 

            She lives her life, and finds herself nearing a point of, if not happiness, general satisfaction. She has Angel, and her friends, and her beloved little sister. And she has her dreams, where she can be with him, laughing and talking and just _being._ She doesn't know how to describe her new existence, still too unsure, but she thinks it's almost peaceful. Until the nightmares. For about a week, her pleasant dreams are chased away by decidedly unpleasant images of the last battle. Everything is blurred and skewed and she has trouble focusing on any particular image. She wakes up each time with a slight headache and the disappointment of not seeing him, but she is otherwise unbothered.             Until the day Dawn goes to visit their father, and comes back with a photo album. In it, there are pictures of both the girls as children, including one of her with her new born sister held carefully in her arms, a toothy grin on her young face. She runs her fingers lightly over the many pictures featuring her mother, smiling a wistful smile that could have well been a grimace. 

That night is the worst, and the first image to flash before her sleeping eyes, more clear than ever before, is of him dying. His face contorted in pain, the light consuming him. Then the dead potentials, the graves in her backyard- covering girls the same age as her little sister. Fighting her best friend, consumed by grief and black magick. Being ripped from the only true peace she's ever known. Dying, surrounded by mystical lightning. Finding her mother on the couch, watching Angel walk away from her, seeing Faith slip into the darkness. Her sudden loss of slayer strength, and the sting of betrayal from the one man she trusted with everything she was. Killing Angel, facing her mother's blatant refusal to accept her. Drowning. Loosing her normal life to one filled with monsters and death, and that terrifying stay in the mental institution. The past seven years of her life, every moment of fear and pain and uncertainty, flash through her mind's eye. She relives every moment of heartache and excruciating agony and wakes up screaming like a crazed banshee and thrashing wildly against the sheets. 

            All at once strong arms are around her, giving her a brisk shake to knock her from her hysteria. She is trembling dreadfully and sobbing, taking in deep gasping breaths. He holds her gently but firmly against his chest, promising that it was just a dream and that's she'll be okay now. But she knows from his voice that he doesn't believe it. She cries until her body can no longer physically support her, then she slumps against him waiting for her heart to slow. There had been tears shed for him, and for her friends. For her sister, and poor hapless mother, who wanted so desperately to protect her daughter. Every tear she'd ever held back to be strong or brave, every one of them came pouring out with a vengeance onto his black silk shirt. They sit together for a long time, neither of them speaking, too afraid to break the silence. Finally, one hand stroking her back gently, he breaches the forbidden subject, tentatively, but still.

            "He saved the world, Buffy. Saved us all." She hears the struggle in his voice, though he speaks steadily. She realizes idly that she really has no idea the depth of emotion between these two men she loves, no clue what went on in the centuries before.

            "He did." She says softly, her voice a little hoarse from the immense amount of screaming and crying she's done. "I think…" she pauses a moment, not knowing exactly how to express what she's told no one else. "I think he was really proud. And happy." She nods a little, and continues, "It didn't matter that he wasn't going to have the chance to do… whatever. He got to do the really right thing."

            "He really had changed, hadn't he?" there is a note of wonder in his voice, and she nods again.

            "Whatever his past, whatever he's done or said or been… he was a good man." There is a slight pause, then he leans back against the pillows with her still in his arms.

            "I hope he knew that." He says softly. They lie there together, eventually falling asleep, thinking of the world and the man who saved it but could never be rewarded.


	4. Something new, something old

Much, much thanks to everybody who reviewed. I will try to make things a little happier. I'm working on ways to _maybe_ bring Spike back. Review!

            After her nightmare, she'd gone with Angel back to the crater that had been Sunnydale. They'd talked for hours about everything that had been destroyed. And they'd talked about him. When they returned to the hotel, they had an understanding that the others wondered about, but didn't question. Relative peace returned to their lives, and her only real complaint was that she could no longer find him in her dreams. Or, more accurately, she didn't dream at all. It bothered her, but she thought it might just be her fear of the nightmares returning, so it was only temporary. After a week has passed, she was more worried, but she knew that worrying wouldn't solve anything. Instead, she kept busy, helping Giles and Wesley retrieve research materials from the basement and various sources, training the girls, and keeping an eye on the interactions between the scoobies and the fang gang, which weren't always pleasant.

The phone call didn't seem like anything special at first. Around here, it rang fairly often. Business calls were more frequent than usual for Angel Investigations, and she was amused to find that several of the clients were former residents of Sunnydale who were quick to pick up on mystical happenings. The many new slayers were being contacted, and were calling to find out more about their new lives. Angel had been weary of using Wolfram and Hart's resources, but it had helped them find several new slayers, and the funding made them able to get most of the large, extended household much needed cell phones. Everyone was constantly checking in, and she was consequently very used to the sound of the phone ringing, then some random passerby picking it up and taking messages. 

            On this particular day, the passerby happened to be her. She was juggling a few large books she'd brought up from the basement, and answered the phone with the good-natured sass that drove Angel crazy.

            "Angel Investigations, we're helpless but hopeful." There was a chuckle from the other end, then a familiar voice from years before.

            "Good to see some things never change. This is Ethan Rayne."


	5. Deal from the Devil

            Without a word, she dropped the phone unceremoniously onto the counter, then slammed the books down beside it and stomped to the middle of the lobby.

            "_Giles_!!" she shouted. She waited in the lobby, and moments later her watcher appeared, breathless.

            "What is it, what happened?" he asked, looking around her and finding nothing out of the ordinary. "Are you alright?" She nodded briskly, and then gestured over her shoulder to the phone.

            "Phone for you." He gave her a puzzled look, shaking his head slightly. She elaborated. "Psychotic magic mischief loving old friend of yours, on the phone for you." Giles looked at her for a moment, then rushed across the lobby and snatched up the phone. She turned to watch him, arms crossed.

            "Yes, hello…" In the slight pause that followed, Angel appeared at her side, shooting her a questioning look. Then: "What the bloody hell do you want?" The icy tone in Giles' voice sent a chill down her spine. Lately, he'd been his old self, fussing over his books and her welfare and ignoring most else. But now he sounded harsh, cruel, even knowing who was on the other end of the phone line. "And why would you call here? I can think of no one within these walls who gives a damn about-" he stopped suddenly, presumably interrupted, then continued, slapping his hand against the wall, fury in his voice. Angel slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't you even _think_ it! The last thing we need is you and your black magic… No… No, I don't _care_… No, it is _not_ my problem, and I will _not_ allow you to pull her or any of them into this-" He listened for a moment, then slammed the phone down, storming towards the front door. She hurried after him.

            "Giles! Wait, Giles, what did he want?"

            "It doesn't matter. I don't want that man anywhere near any of you, no matter what he promises." 

            "Well, yeah. Evil, I know, but what did he say?" Giles shook his head, then grabbed her arm in a tight grip and gave her a slight shake.

            "You're not to speak to him, Buffy. Please, promise me you won't listen to a word he says; if he calls, hang up. Promise me." She nodded, frowning worriedly. 

            "I promise." She told him in a small voice. "But you're scaring me, Giles. What did he say to you?" Her watcher shook his head again, briskly, then managed a tight smile for her sake, gesturing to Angel.

            "Its alright, you needn't worry. Why don't you go back with Angel and help the girls with their training, I'll be back soon."

            "Okay. Be careful." He nodded, then turned quickly and left. She immediately rounded on Angel, who looked far too innocent to her. 

            "What did he say?" she demanded in her best Slayer interrogation voice. 

            "What do you mean, how would I know?" she raised an eyebrow, glaring.

            "Vampire hearing. I know you were listening, now tell me what they said. Before I have to start causing physical and architectural damage to you _and_ this hotel of yours."

            "Fine." He raised a hand in defeat, "God, I really am going soft, but I think you ought to know this anyway, in case he shows up here. Ethan found out everything that went down in Sunnydale, and what we've got here. He's gotten himself in some kind of trouble and he wants to bargain." He hesitated for a long moment.

            "So?" she asked expectantly, "What's he offering?" For a minute she didn't think he'd answer, and when he did, she almost wished he hadn't. The room spun, and had she not been a Slayer, she thought she might have passed out.

            "He says he knows how to get Spike back."


	6. Life and Death

Review! Can't write if I don't get lots of reviews. Please? Let me know if you want fluffy dreams for a while, actual hotel action, Ethan Rayne stuff… whatever.

            She couldn't remember ever in her life feeling truly numb. Not apathetic and depressed, as she had when she'd returned from the dead– the second time, anyway; not standing paralyzed on the edge of panic as she had when she'd found her mother on the couch. Just numb. She stared at Angel for several moments, then she turned slowly and walked away. She had no idea where she was going or why. Angel called after her, but she ignored him. She just walked. For a while, she lost all sense of self. When a blaring horn startled her from her stupor, she was in the middle of an intersection. Then Angel's words ran through her head. _He says he knows how to get Spike back._ She walked on.

            When her cell phone rang, she checked the id from habit – Angel – and turned it off. Nighttime found her in a seedier neighborhood, but she didn't particularly care. She was a slayer after all. The original, if not the one and only. She was suddenly so tired, so drained, but she didn't want to return to the hotel. She didn't want to face Angel, or fight with Giles. So she slipped into an abandoned house, her better judgment screeching at her that this was a _bad_ idea, god knows what could happen, had she _completely_ lost her senses? As she often did, she ignored it. There was an old couch on the second floor that looked less ratty than the other furniture, and she laid down, knowing before her eyes closed that she would dream of him.

            "And just what the bleeding hell are you doing?" he looked rather amusing, standing at the edge of the Sunnydale crater, hands on his hips. She realized with a dull sense of surprise that the couch she'd fallen asleep on was here too, she was in fact still sitting on it. A moment passed before she remembered that he'd asked her a question, and by then he'd repeated it. "Buffy. Earth to slayer. What are you doing?"

            "I don't know." She replied slowly. He shook his head, scoffing.

            "Please. You know exactly what you're doing. So?" She lowered her head for a moment, replaying the walk from the hotel – _he knows how to get spike back _– and finding the building. The phone call from Ethan Rayne.

            "I'm running." She told him, raising her eyes to meet his gaze. "Because I don't know what else to do." He seemed to soften, and he came to sit beside her on the couch. "Ethan Rayne called the hotel. He said… he said he could bring you back." He turned his head away from her.

            "Ethan Rayne, hmm? If I'm not mistaken, he's one of the bad guys?"

            "Yeah."

            "Used to hang with old Rupert; likes to play with black magic."

            "That'd be him. Responsible for that whole Halloween costume mess." Without seeing it, she heard the momentary grin in his response.

            "I remember that one. Quite a party. And he thinks he can raise the dead, does he?" She paused a moment, then answered honestly.

            "I believe he can. Willow did, and he has way more experience than she did. And he likes risks. If we bargain with him, and he actually follows through… he could do it."

            "Do I really need to tell you he can't be trusted?" he was watching her closely now, his blue eyes burning into her. She shook her head. "And you know raising the dead isn't ever exactly a good plan." She nodded, and he clapped his hands together once. "Then you know what you need to do. It's not safe to play with these things, pet."

            "I know that," she whispered, "but its been done before. Darla was dusted, and she was brought back. Human, no less." She turned to him, suddenly desperate, "Spike, what if we could bring you back?" He didn't reply, just turned away. After a moment, she followed his gaze to the crater. The crater he'd made. The one he'd saved the world by. Died in. She felt the stirrings of disrupted sleep, and fought to stay. As the image faded, he turned to her one last time, a sad little smile on his face. The same smile he'd had when she'd left him to die. She woke up with a start, and her fist swung out to whoever held her shoulders tightly, knocking them to the floor. Unfortunately, that someone was a very pissed off Angel.

            "Oops?" she ventured timidly. He glared, picking himself off the floor. He grabbed her hand, puling her none too gently out of the building and into his car. As they drove back to the hotel, he sighed heavily and broke the silence.

            "I was worried about you."

            "I'm sorry." he nodded, and another moment passed.

            "It's not safe to trust Ethan Rayne." 

            "I know that." She told him, feeling the onset of yet more tears. She looked forward to the time when she could go a week without crying.

            "Buffy… we don't have to give up on this, if you don't want us to." She shot him a quick, puzzled look. His face was practically a grimace, and the words seemed to take an immense amount of effort. "Wolfram and Hart brought Darla back, remember? I control the offices now. I can't promise we'll find something safe to use, but if this is what you want…" 

            "Please. Just see if it can be done, please, Angel."

            "Alright." And with that, they fell back into silence. Angel told the others that she'd simply chased down a demon too far from the hotel while on patrol. She told Giles that she knew, and they decided to find out just what Ethan wanted anyway, for safety's sake. Angel researched, but they didn't speak of it again. And her dreams returned.


	7. Dead Soul Man

            "Did you drink lots of tea when you were human, like Giles does?" He sent her what he meant to be a vicious scowl, which seemed instead to answer her question affirmatively. A grin passed over her face, and he fought to keep his glare intact. He failed miserably, and grinned back at her. It was impossible not to.

            "I wasn't as stuffy as he is." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he sighed. "Well, maybe a bit… alright, I was a ponce, are you happy?" 

            "Yup." She laughed, snuggling closer to him on the couch. She could vaguely hear the band playing in the background, and was aware of the people around them, but it was all distant. Here, only he mattered. His arm was snug around her shoulders, and she felt safe. Content. She wondered if it was possible to fall asleep here on his shoulder when she was already in a dream. The thought led to more complicated ones: If she fell asleep here, how would she know if the real world was really real, or just a dream within a dream? She frowned, and he asked her what was wrong. She posed her question to him, and he smiled.  

            "Only you would think of things like that, love."

            "Things like what?" 

            "Questions with no real purpose or answer." she shot him a playful glare, and he grinned. She rolled her eyes, but grinned back. It was strange, when she really thought about it, that she could be happiest here, faced with something that would never be a reality. She had come to the tentative conclusion that to her, this was its own reality, separate from the real world, but still some form of real. How her dreams came to be was a mystery to her, or would be if she ever wondered. But why would she? She was afraid that if she studied it too much, questioned it… she would lose it, the one place she felt truly safe, and the person she needed so much to see. Besides, didn't somebody say something about gift horses and biting the hand that feeds them with the mouth that you shouldn't look in or something or other?

            "You alright, pet?" She sighed softly, watching the people dancing. 

            "Yeah. Everything is okay for once. Its weird, but kinda nice."

            "So why are you worried?"

            "I'm not." He laughed a little, kissing the top of her head.

            "Good rule of thumb, don't lie to dead men. We're very quick on the uptake."

            "I got a better rule of thumb: stop hanging out with so many dead men."

            "As far as the dead thing goes, you're a bit of a hypocrite, aren't you?" 

            "Am I ever gonna live that down? Pun not intended." His grin softened, and he trailed his fingers down her cheek. 

            "Yeah." He replied, leaning over to kiss her, "But you'll have to stay alive for a really long, long time. Feel up to the challenge?" She pulled him closer, smiling against his lips. 

            "I really do."


	8. Early in the Nighttime

Sorry for slower updates, I've been taking finals and having computer troubles, so I haven't had much time to write. Of course, reviews make the process faster.  
  
She awoke slowly, leisurely, and enjoyed every moment of it. The sun was just setting, and she spared a moment of amusement on her newly nocturnal habits. Lately, more and more needed to be done at night: checking contacts, researching new evils, recording data for future slayers, and basic patrolling. She went to bed later, and slept in much later. The rest of the hotel stayed quiet until she emerged downstairs, out of respect or fear of cranky morning slayer, she wasn't sure. She lifted herself from the bed with a groan, headed for the shower with a quick look to the glass doors leading out onto her balcony to survey her fabulous view of the sunset.  
An hour later she was clean, dressed, and in a fairly good mood as she made her way to the staircase. The hotel was huge, and it was a little difficult for her blonde self to remember which way she was supposed to go sometimes. Which was probably why Angel had set her up with a room relatively close to the stairs. She looked around the lobby for the scoobies/fang gang/slayers. A few of Angel's crew, Willow's favorite, mousy Fred, and Gunn were sitting with Wesley on one of the couches. They called over their good mornings, and Gunn got up to answer the door as Buffy headed for breakfast A perk of waking up at night was that she was on the same schedule as the resident master chef. After being around for so long, Angel had become quite the culinary champion, even if his vamp taste buds couldn't fully appreciate his own genius. Unfortunately, he refused to cook for the entire household. But for her, on the other hand, he was more than happy to. She danced her way into the kitchen, now fully on her way to being in a very good mood. Sure enough, Angel stood at the stove, preparing whatever masterpiece he'd be presenting her with next.  
"Morning, handsome." She strolled up to him, grinning back as he sent her an over the shoulder smile. "Something smells absolutely heavenly in here."  
"Omelet, French toast, sausage, fresh orange juice." As he said the last, he handed the glass to her. She gave him a dubious look.  
"You are so gonna make me fat."  
"Never happen." He told her absently, flipping the omelet over. "I think Gunn's got a client out front. Why don't you go see what's up while I finish this?" She gave a snappy mock-salute.  
"Yes, sir." She turned to go, then came to where he stood at the stove with his back to her and hugged his waist. "Thanks, Angel." He didn't reply, not to acknowledge the thanks nor to ask what it was being given for. She smiled a little and headed for the lobby. He was afraid, she knew, of what was to become of them. He knew she couldn't stay here forever. She had too much work to do, and she wasn't ready to be in a real relationship yet. As always, Angel was afraid to hope for the best. She ambled into the lobby, wearing what Xander affectionately called her 'charm-the-clients' smile. Anya would have called it the hello-please-give-me-your-money smile, but Anya was dead. Buffy's smile faltered for a split second, then she gathered her composure back around her like a warm fuzzy blanket and began her spiel. The potential client was a short man with a suitcase at his feet and a guitar leaning against his side.  
"Welcome to Angel Investigations," At the sound of her voice, Gunn turned, allowing her a clear view of the newcomer. "How can we- oh my god." Her jaw dropped, and she froze. The man smiled vaguely, raising a hand in greeting.  
"Hey Buffy. Heard I missed one hell of a party." 


	9. Familiar

            "Oz?" He stepped forward, and she gave him a warm hug. After everything, seeing a friendly familiar face was more than welcome. "What are you doing here?" she asked him, nodding to Gunn that she had everything under control.

            "I was hanging in Budapest, heard the First was back. I tried to get back to help, but by the time I did, Sunnydale was kinda gone. Figured Angel would know what happened." She nodded, looking behind her briefly. Fred was watching them, but turned her attention to Gunn when he sat down beside her. Wesley nodded at Oz, who returned the gesture. 

            "It's so good to see you." She told him, grabbing his suitcase and leading him towards the kitchen. He took up his guitar, following her. "Angel, look who's here!" she called. The vampire and the werewolf exchanged a look. 

            "Oz."

            "Angel." She rolled her eyes.

            "Way to communicate, guys. C'mon Oz, I'll find you a room." She paused a moment, "You are staying, right?" He nodded, and they started up the stairs. She made a mental note to make sure Kennedy didn't return to the hotel anytime soon; the possessive slayer was currently in Arizona on some busy work/slayer scouting. She saw Oz pause outside the door to Willow's room, closing his eyes briefly. Having plenty of experience with supernatural senses of smell, she didn't comment, finding him an empty room relatively nearby. She started in on one of her other mostly pre-done spiels, the one for newcomers who'd be staying in the hotel.

            "Bathroom's just down the hall and on the right. The door's got a sign, since the girl with the room next to it got sick of people mixing up which was which. There are more towels in there than you could ever need. You saw the kitchen; there are three fridges now, the one on the left side is Angel's, regular food in the other two. Just go for the ones with the fun magnets." She sat down on the arm of a plush lounge chair, running through her mental list of things he needed to know. "Everybody kinda eats in shifts or on their own, but everyone in the hotel gets together in the big hall we found downstairs for dinner on Sundays. Today is…" she thought for a moment, then came up with the date, "Saturday. Good, so you can get the feel of things tomorrow, figure out where you'll fit here." He nodded, looking towards the window. She went to open the curtains.

            "Not sure how good your view is."

            "It's not important." He told her, leaning his guitar against the wall. She moved towards the door, giving him an apologetic grin.

            "I'd give you the tour, but we'd probably get lost. And I'm supposed to be meeting Faith to talk about patrols and training." 

            "I'll be fine." It seemed Oz was, as he'd always been, as close to monosyllabic as he could manage. Which, in her own talkative opinion, was pretty close.

            "If you need anything," She wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but she lived by instinct, so… "Willow's room is the third door down from yours. She has a little plaque from one of the new slayers that says 'House Mystic'." At this he smiled, and she gave a little wave on her way out the door. Once in the hallway, she shook her head a little, then started for the stairs. She thought about finding Willow and warning her about the presence of her werewolf ex, but decided that it would be more fun to see an original reaction. And Faith was waiting, probably not patiently.


	10. Uber Boss Buffy

Okay, after this, spuffy dreams on the way. Oh, and if anyone feels inclined to review and give me an excuse to write in some cute Willow and Oz scene, that'd be good.

            "Faith, you down here?" she called, making her way down the basement steps. For whatever reason, the crates that had been in the process of being moved upstairs were now littering said stairs. She sighed heavily. Though she knew it wasn't entirely true, sometimes she felt like nothing got done if she didn't either do it herself or delegate the task to someone specific. 

            "Bout time you showed, B." the other senior slayer met her at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded across her chest and a mischievous grin on her face. "You get busy with Angel or what?"

            "No." Buffy replied dryly, stepping past her to toss herself in one of the two plush armchairs that they'd brought down for observing younger slayers while they trained. "Oz came by. I was setting him up with a place to stay. And I kinda forgot until I was upstairs and already late." Faith sat down in the chair next to Buffy's.

            "What gives? You're all kinds of spacey lately."

            "I don't know. I guess I just haven't been paying attention." She was living dream to dream, and the real world often failed to capture her interest with what she had to look forward to in sleep. Only Angel really understood, and he was afraid to draw her out.

            "Don't sweat it, B." Faith gave a dismissive wave, then pulled a thick file from behind her chair. "I take it this is what you wanted to talk about?" 

            "Exactly." The file contained all the practical information they had on Hellmouths in general, the Sunnydale Hellmouth specifically, and the demonic activity in Cleveland. "You've got everything in there?"

            "Everything except…" Faith rifled through the file for a moment, "A few spells that Willow and the brainy slayers working with her kept, and an excerpt from a watcher's diary that Wes and Giles keep arguing about."

            "Have they asked Angel? He's pretty good at that stuff, ya know, having been around way back when." The brunette sent her blonde counterpart an incredulous look.

            "Case you haven't noticed, the big guy doesn't seem to have much to say these days, unless you're, oh say… you." Buffy shrugged, taking the folder from Faith to check through it herself. It was true, Angel did seem to be breaking his own records for broodiness, and she knew part of it was their less than simple relationship. Plus the presence of so many strangers in his hotel, and, with her taking charge, the decreasing need for his management. Add all that on to whatever had happened to him before they had all arrived…

            "Yo, B." She shook her head briskly, bringing her attention back to the other slayer. "We gonna do this or what?"

            "Yes. Sorry." She took a deep breath, pulling a map of Cleveland from the folder. The area where the Hellmouth was thought to be was circled in red marker. Someone, she suspected Willow, had turned the circle into a smiley face. Someone else, using a black pen, had added little horns and evil eyebrows. Probably Xander. She smiled a little, then looked up at Faith.  

            "I want to send a group out there, to check the scene, do some basic prep work. You and Wood have the more advanced slayers for defense and combat. How are they coming?

            "Pretty awesome, most of them are ready for some action."

            "Good. Xander and Dawn said they have a few girls in their basic defense group that might be ready to join you soon."

            "More the merrier. But Robin can handle 'em, I want in on the road trip."

            "Kay. Choose five of your best girls, and we'll have Willow send… maybe three of her little mini wiccans?"

            "Sounds good. I think Xander wants to go too. What about Angel's crew?" Buffy shook her head, closing the file once more.

            "Nah, they're busy with their new law firm thingy. Sides, I want us all to get a taste of how everyone works within the new and expanded Scoobies." The slayers both stood, headed towards the steps. 

            "So you're staying here?" Faith asked, walking backwards up the stairs to look at Buffy. "With Angel?" The blonde sent her a half-hearted glare.

            "I've got work to do here. And besides, I've had enough Hellmouth for a while. You can handle this fine on your own."

            "Wait a second," Faith stopped with her hand on the doorknob, "You putting me in charge?" Buffy rolled her eyes, pushing gently passed her to open the door.

            "Well, duh." Faith hesitated on the steps a moment longer, memories of a certain explosion making her decidedly uneasy. Then a slow, devilish grin slid across her face. 

            "Wicked."


	11. Bittersweet

            The air was thick with incense, and the only light came from the circle of candles on the floor. Behind each candle sat a girl, chanting softly. In the middle of the circle, the leader held her hands high, signaling silence. The chant fell away, and the middle figure smiled. In the candle light, her red hair looked like fire.

            "Not bad guys." She told them cheerfully, her voice much younger than her ancient eyes, "You're doing a lot better at concentration." She waved her hand almost casually, and the light switch flicked on, causing several of the girls to blink in the sudden brightness. Willow brought her hand in a sweeping gesture over the candles as she stood, and they flickered out. "Okay, you guys go ahead and get some munchies, we'll finish up later." With her dismissal, the girls rose and departed, chattering happily to each other and calling goodbyes to her on their way. Her serene smile became a triumphant grin. She was immensely proud of her students. She had never had an opportunity to teach like this, and she was most definitely enjoying it. She remembered Giles telling her she would do well as a Watcher, and found herself thinking more and more along those lines. With the original Watcher's Council destroyed, and new slayers all over the world who needed training and guidance, the Scooby gang really had their work cut out for them. It was Willow's optimistic hope that they could build a new Council, one that was run for and mainly by the slayers themselves. But, one thing at a time. For now, she was content to teach her small group the basics of magic, a good healthy bit of respect for forces bigger than themselves, and some Latin to make researching easier. 

At the moment, they had the supreme information capabilities of Wolfram and Hart behind them, but Willow knew that Buffy would never allow them to rely solely on Angel's new law firm. Once she had gotten herself focused again, healed a little, Buffy was sure to move them out of the hotel and find more permanent headquarters. And then it was back to musty book land for research. Willow opened her window wide, looking out onto the city. The view was amazing to all those from Sunnydale, who were used to seeing only the houses across the street from their windows. Here, the lights of the glittering building sparkled in the darkness, enchanting all those who looked upon them. Or so it seemed to her anyway. 

A light breeze sent her shivering, and she looked around for a moment to find her shawl. She'd been communicating with one of the new slayers, who lived in Tibet, prior to her arrival in L.A. When she'd come, the girl had brought the beautiful hand woven wrap to Willow as a thank you gift. It was black at first glance, but a great deal of colors were woven throughout, so that it changed color depending on the light. Willow loved it. She pulled it around her shoulders, humming softly as she stepped over the candles on her way to the door. She wasn't really hungry, but she thought she should go downstairs and check on everyone else now that she had some time. She'd been so busy lately, she'd barely seen the Scoobies. She flicked off her light on her way out and left her door open a crack. She kept the door closed during lessons, so most in the hotel knew that if it were open, she was elsewhere. 

She turned around quickly, looking forward to spending her free time with her best friends. Xander was always with his gaggle of girls, teaching them self-defense and attempting to look as though he wasn't wildly enjoying the attention. Buffy was easier to get a hold of, in theory anyway. She'd been distracted lately, and the only one she really seemed to spend time with was Angel. Dawn had told Willow not to worry about it, that eventually the pair would be able to mingle again. Willow wasn't so sure, but figured if anyone knew, Dawn would. The former key had been coming amazingly into her own since the move. She was happy here, and confident. The red-headed witch shook her head in the midst of her musings, too distracted to notice that she was about to collide with the person who'd just come out of one of the bedrooms. 

            "Oh goddess, sorry!" she cried, backing up quickly. Something so familiar… he looked up. Willow's mouth hung open for a moment, and she could have sworn she'd felt her heart stop. "Oz." She said softly. Then realization dawned and she repeated his name in surprise, "Oz! Wh-what are you doing here? An-and when did you get here, and what are you doing here? And… when?" Her stammered words came out stunned, then ended timidly as she watched the man before her. Oz. Her Oz. There was no point in her mind telling her that he wasn't hers anymore, it was simply ignored.

            "Hi, Willow." He said, and she felt her smile return, unbidden. His voice was so soft… "I just got here, about a half hour ago. I heard about Sunnydale." 

            "Oh. Yeah, with the not being there anymore." She nodded, looking behind him to the room he'd just exited. "Are you… staying here?" Now he nodded, and opened the door wider, his gaze giving her permission to enter. She stepped hesitantly inside, and he closed the door. For a moment, they simply watched each other in silence. She felt uneasy, after everything, being in the scrutiny of him, who she hadn't seen in so long. Then a small, somehow lonely seeming smile slipped across his face.

            "I missed you." He said simply. Again, her smile returned, and she closed the distance between them to hug him. Warm and safe and just so _right._

            "I missed you too." She told him. He held her close, one arm around her back, the other at the back of her head, his fingers in her hair. The embrace was familiar, and she felt for a moment like she was sixteen again, young and innocent and head over heels in love. It seemed like eons before she came back to herself, her twenty two year old, much more sensible self. They separated slowly, smiles still lighting their faces even as they pulled safely away and sat down; him on the edge of the bed, her in the chair across from him. She fiddled with the tassels on her shawl, marveling at how little he had changed.

            "Where have you been?" she asked him softly. 

            "Budapest." He replied, "At least most recently. Before that, I spent a while in New Orleans. Wild place…"


	12. Road Trip

"You sure you want to miss out on all the fun?" Buffy smiled softly at Xander, taking his duffel bag as they walked down the stairs.  
  
"I'm sure. Believe me, I have had more than enough fun lately."  
  
"Oh, nonsense. What, you don't enjoy hanging out with your ex all day and keeping track of a world wide group of super-powered, hormonally charged teenagers?" She glared half-heartedly, giving him a light shove. He laughed at her, rubbing his arm nonetheless. They reached the lobby, where Faith was attempting to organize the group of girls, Robin by her side. Buffy handed Xander his bag, motioning to the large pile of equipment and luggage. Faith stepped over to Buffy, running a hand through her hair distractedly.  
  
"How's it coming?" she asked. The brunette shook her head, sighing.  
  
"I'm kinda at a loss here. I mean, Angel got the weapons together, and Robin packed them, and it's not that I don't trust them, it's just that. I don't trust them." Buffy laughed, looking over at Angel, who stood off in a corner. "And I checked the bags, but what if I missed something, or we end up needing more than we thought we would, or-"  
  
"Faith!" Buffy cut her off, trying not to laugh again. She had never heard the other slayer rant the way she herself often did, and it was pretty damn amusing. "You're gonna do fine. Relax. You can do this. The only thing you need to worry about is keeping Xander from flirting with the girls. And vice versa, for that matter." Faith grinned, looking calmer.  
  
"You're right. I got this." She did a little shimmy, as if shaking off the stress. She was about to turn back to the girls, but instead sent an almost pleading look to Buffy. "Do you think you could. you know, get this thing going? I don't really know how to. do this." Buffy nodded.  
  
"No problem. We all know how I love my speeches." The slayers shared a smile, then Buffy turned her attention to the group.  
  
"Okay everybody, the sooner you get on the road, the better. Robin and Xander, you guys start loading this stuff up in the vans. You girls, listen up. You should all know that you're going to Cleveland, where there's another hellmouth, similar to the one some of you helped close in Sunnydale. You aren't closing this one. You're just getting an idea of what it's like out there, so we know how to handle it. Faith is your senior slayer, and she is in charge. You should use this as an opportunity to practice what you've learned and get some real experience." She took one last look around the group. Robin and Xander had finished with the bags, and they stood behind the girls, waiting. She smiled. "Alright girls. Go kick ass 


	13. Only

Buffy watched the two vans pulling away from the hotel. When they were out of sight, she went back inside, sitting on one of the couches. Angel left his shadowy corner to join her. He held out his hand, and she took it, lacing her fingers with his.  
"You think they'll be okay?" she asked quietly. He thought for a moment, then gave her hand a squeeze.  
"Of course they will." She nodded, more to convince herself than to confirm his words. She knew that the young slayers who were now on their way to Cleveland were the best of the girls. They were ready for this, and it wasn't as if they were being asked to do something terribly difficult anyway. She and her best friends had survived on the hell mouth for years, after all. And she trusted Xander absolutely, if not to make sure everything was perfect, then at least to keep her posted on what was going on. And she trusted Faith. Hard as it was to believe, she knew Faith could do this.  
"Hey." She turned to Angel, pushing aside thoughts of the other group. It would work out fine. "What are you thinking?"  
"Just thoughts." She told him. She leaned her head against his shoulder. She'd been busy today, and hadn't had the chance to check in on Willow. She wasn't sure if the red-head had bumped into Oz yet, and if she had, juicy details were needed. She realized that it had been a while since she'd spent real time with any of her friends/family. Giles was always buried in books or arguing with Wesley or helping Willow to build the foundations of a new Watcher's Council. Xander had been working hard training the slayers, and now he was off to Cleveland. Dawn was busy as well, trying to be part of everything at every moment. Even Andrew was occupied. Granted, he was occupied with buying groceries and making sure people used coasters to protect the furniture, but still.  
"Did you get any sleep last night?"  
"Too much to do." She waved her free hand dismissively, "Sides, I never sleep at night these days anyway."  
"I know. You ought to go get some rest." She considered for a moment.  
"You're probably right." She would have gone upstairs, but she couldn't seem to get herself to stand. It was so comfortable, sitting here with him. Her eyes were drifting closed, and she suddenly had to fight sleep. She heard him chuckle, then he stood slowly. She murmured a protest, but he was already leaning down to pick her up. She protested again, though he couldn't really take it seriously as she snuggled into his chest and wrapped her arm around his back. He brought her upstairs and laid her down, pulling the blankets up around her. She sighed happily, relaxing. He kissed her forehead and turned to leave, but she caught his hand.  
"Angel?" she saw the fleeting look of fear cross his eyes, and she felt it mirrored in her own. She remembered when they'd both felt so safe together. "Stay with me?" There was a moment, and then he took off his shoes and laid down next to her. She could feel the onset of her traitorous train of thought that would inevitably bring her back to Spike. She pushed it away, cuddling close to Angel. She'd spent three years with Angel. He had been the best and worst part of her life, and that wasn't something that just went away. Nor did she want it to. She closed her eyes.  
"Is this 'goodnight', or 'good morning'?" she whispered, tapping her fingers on his flat stomach. He caught her hand, and brought it to his lips to kiss her palm.  
"How bout 'sleep well'?" he suggested, a smile in his voice.  
"That works." She murmured, nodding resolutely. By the time the two vans had left L.A., both Vampire and Slayer were sound asleep. 


	14. Final Words

A week had passed since Faith and the others had left for the other hellmouth. Buffy had been busy, though no one knew exactly what she was up to. As she rushed about, Angel began spending more time with his own friends/crew. They were testing out their resources at Wolfram and Hart, exploring the building and meeting the employees. Willow and Giles had managed to get most of Angel's formidable collection of books and prophecies onto the computer, as all of the Scooby Gang's research materials had been lost with Sunnydale.

Buffy wasn't surprised to find Oz in Willow's room. The pair had been spending a good deal of time together, in between Willow's many tasks and Oz's new job. In the absence of Xander, Faith, and Robin, Dawn had been overwhelmed with the sudden increase in her responsibilities in teaching defense to the new slayers. Oz volunteered to help out, much to her relief. But whenever Willow or Oz had free time, they could usually be found together. When Buffy sought her redheaded friend out, she found her sitting at one end of the couch in her room, levitating a book in the air and occasionally turning the pages with a flick of her finger. Oz was lying across the length of the couch, his head in Willow's lap. He seemed to be contemplating the ceiling, humming under his breath, a Dingoes Ate My Baby song, no doubt.

"Hey, guys." Buffy called softly, feeling a little guilty for disrupting the quiet. Willow reached up to grab the book, and laid it down on the end table, turning to Buffy with a smile. Oz raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey Buffy. What's up?"

"I need to talk to you. Oz, you mind if I borrow Willow for a minute?"

"Not a problem." He replied, giving Willow's hand a brief squeeze as she stood, carefully easing a pillow under his head. She followed Buffy out into the hallway.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. But... okay, you know I've been really busy lately?" At the redhead's nod, she continued, holding up a manila envelope that she'd had in her right hand. "This is what I've been doing..." As she explained, Willow's expression shifted from worried to relieved to confident and back to worried again. When she'd finished telling her everything, she gave her best friend an anxious look.

"What do you think, Will?"

"I think... this is a good idea. Really, Buffy, you did a good job. Have you told everybody else?"

"Nope. You're the first to know." Willow tried, and failed, not to look immensely proud of that. She gave Buffy a reassuring smile and a hug, and turned to go back to her room.

"You'd better tell the others. I'll tell Oz, and don't worry. Everything will be fine." Buffy nodded, heading down the hall. There was a ballroom down that way, which was where Dawn had been training the slayers. Since Oz was with Willow, Dawn was probably working with the younger slayers, and any others who felt they needed a little extra practice. Buffy felt a swell of pride for her little sister. She had not only outgrown her childish practices, she had become a full-fledged, contributing member of the Scooby Gang. When Buffy opened the doors of the ballroom, she was smiling broadly. Dawn was walking around the room, which held about twelve slayers, paired off in twos. Each group was practicing basic defense, with Dawn observing and pausing every now and then to correct mistakes. Buffy called her over to the doorway.

"Hey Buffy!" she said cheerfully, toying with the ends of her brown hair, a habit she'd picked up after cutting it to shoulder length. The effect was what Buffy told her was adorable and Xander assured her was very mature.

"Hey Dawnie. You got a minute?"

"Sure. What's up?" Once again, Buffy held up the folder.

"I need to talk to you about something." And again, she explained her plan, and what she'd been working on. Dawn grinned at her as she finished.

"I love it! I can't believe we're actually gonna do it, but I love it!"

"Good." Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. Two down, three to go. "Thanks Dawnie. I'll let you get back to the girls." She started to leave, then turned back to her sister, "You're doing a great job, sweetie." Dawn beamed at her. Buffy watched her walk back to the training slayers, then headed for the first floor. Her first stop was the front desk, where she called Xander and told him what was going on. He promised to inform the others, and she went off in search of Giles. She found him in the basement, looking for some obscure book that had just been brought to his attention. As she helped him look, she launched on her fourth explanation of the day.

"Are you sure about this Buffy?" he asked her; giving that concerned father look she loved so much. "This is a very important decision. I mean, of course I support you, I just want you to be sure." She gave him a reassuring smile.

"I am, Giles. Really, I think this is the best thing."

"Very well. I suppose you're right." His forehead crinkled in a sudden frown, and he pulled off his glasses to clean them. "Have you told Angel?" Buffy sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Not yet. I'm on my way to tell him now."

"Good luck. I imagine you'll need it." She nodded, giving him a weary smile. He had found the book he'd wanted, and was now wiping layers of dust from it. She headed upstairs, the folder still in hand. Four down, one to go.

She found Angel in his office. He seemed to be doing what he did best; namely, brooding. She knocked lightly on the doorframe before entering.

"Hey. You busy?" he chuckled a little.

"How could I be? With all the new slayers, there's not much for me to do. You okay? You look worried." He stood from his chair and moved to stand in front of her, leaning on his desk. She took a deep breath before beginning, telling him everything she'd told the others.

"You know I've been really busy lately. And I haven't told anyone what I've been doing, because I wanted to keep it to myself until I knew it was all ready. And now it is. So... You know that there's already a group of us in Cleveland. And things are running really smoothly, with the training and researching, and locating new slayers. In fact, Willow and Giles have pretty much perfected the slayer finding mojo, so we won't have to use Wolfram and Hart anymore. Angel... in this folder is information on a property in Pennsylvania. It's an old inn. It's kinda remote, off in the woods, which is good because we'll have privacy. There's plenty of room, and a big basement we can turn into a gym. I want to move my guys, the Scoobies and the slayers, out there." For a long moment, there was silence. Angel stared down at the carpet. When he spoke, he sounded defeated already.

"Pennsylvania? That's on the other side of the country, Buffy."

"I know." She replied softly, "But it's a hell of a lot closer to Cleveland, and there's some pretty serious demonic activity on the East Coast. I want to check out Maryland while I'm there, actually. I really think this will be a good thing for us. All of us." He didn't answer, and she reached out for his hand. "Angel, please. You know I'm grateful to you for letting us stay here. But it's time for us to go, find our own place. You have your own life, and we've disrupted that. I wish we could stay, Angel. It's been wonderful being here, and with you... but we set a lot in motion when we made all the potentials full-fledged, and it's time I started really dealing with it.. Please, say something." He met her eyes, looking despondent but accepting.

"I understand. I just... I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too." She stepped forward to give him a hug. "But that's what e-mail is for!" They both laughed at the idea of the 240-odd, technologically impaired vampire sending off an e-mail. They stayed wrapped in each other's arms for several moments, then Buffy slowly pulled away.

"I've got to go start packing, getting everybody ready. It's gonna be rough, moving all this stuff and all the people."

"I'll call up Wolfram and Hart, have them send over a few vans."

"Thanks, Angel." She paused in the doorway, anxiety creeping up her spine, "Do you think this is gonna be okay?" He smiled for her sake, nodding.

"Of course it will. You can do this, Buffy. And I'm here, whenever you need me. Slightly farther from you then I'd like, but still..."

"I know." She told him, smiling, "I'm gonna go. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah." He returned to his chair, and she set off to begin her preparations. For a long moment, he sat in silent contemplation, then he picked up the phone.

Buffy began delegating tasks, worried about getting everything done. Gunn and Oz packed up weapons, while Wesley helped Giles with the books. Fred followed Willow around while she packed up majick supplies - whether she was actually helping, who knows. Buffy herself was rushing between everyone, checking on everything. She didn't need much time to pack her own stuff, most of her belongings had been swallowed up with Sunnydale, and though Angel had tried buying her new things, she hadn't wanted much. Once her bag was packed, she paused for a moment at her window, looking out onto the city. The lights sparkled and shone, and reminded her of her bedroom window growing up here in L.A., before the move to Sunnydale. She imagined briefly what would have happened had she never left L.A., never been called as the slayer. She would never have died, never have faced so many demons and horrors. Never have met her best friends, or fallen in love with the two men who still owned her heart, even if they were both dead (one more so than the other, Spike's voice whispered in her mind). She laughed softly, staring at the night sky. It would be hard to leave this. Here, she felt safe. With Angel, she felt safe. In Pennsylvania, she would truly be on her own, in unfamiliar settings without him to fall back on. She shook her head sharply. She would be fine. She would take care of her now very extended 'family', and she would kick demon ass at the same time. Yeah. She had killed a Master vampire at fifteen, died and returned twice, and battled countless monstrosities that would send older, wiser people running for cover. She was powerful, and strong, and she was going to go have a cup of hot chocolate with her little sister, and tomorrow they would start the long drive across the country to Pennsylvania. A road trip. Fun. She smiled confidently, then headed for the stairs. Once again, she was starting over. And one way or another, she was going to make this work.

Author's Note :

Okay, so it's been two years since I finished this thing. I'm finally starting the sequel, which is gonna continue from an existing vignette – Sweet Dreams. Go read and review now!


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